


Oh, but she burns

by collectiveobsession



Series: Falling Slowly [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Magic, Nobility, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectiveobsession/pseuds/collectiveobsession
Summary: “No, I’m referring to when my father found out.” Her tone was so cold; Cullen was surprised that the merry flames in the hearth did not die out. He shifted uneasily, watching her face and trying to discern her thoughts.She scoffed and her voice grew even quieter, “Daughters are only good for business deals. I don’t know why it took me so long to understand that.”
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Falling Slowly [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1144679
Kudos: 34





	Oh, but she burns

**Author's Note:**

> Slight TW: older men being creepy to young girls. Nothing graphic, but please be aware of the mention.

“Er – should I come back later?”

Cullen stops in his tracks at the top of the stairs leading to Evie’s chambers. The tea cups rattle in protest at his sudden halt, sloshing dangerously onto the tray in his hands.

He hadn’t seen Evelyn since their morning meeting in the War Room. She’d given him a half-smile and taken the stack of letters Josephine had for her and retired to her quarters. Cullen did not think much about her scarcity – he’d been so absorbed in his own work, after all – but it was now well past dinner and he worried for her. With a few casual questions to her companions about her whereabouts (all of whom had not seen the Inquisitor), Cullen sweet-talked a small meal from the kitchen servants and made his way to her room.

Cullen expected that maybe Evie had been so busy that she had lost track of time, or maybe fallen asleep at her desk. What he hadn’t expected was to see her seated before the fireplace, elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped before her as she stared, unseeing, into the flames.

She didn’t start at his intrusion, just slowly frowned, a small crease forming between her eyebrows that made his stomach clench uncomfortably. This was an unusual response from his Inquisitor – she usually greeted him with a bright smile or at least a gentle kiss, regardless of her mood.

“It’s fine.” Was all she said, eyes darting to and fro as though she were trying to piece together broken fragments in her mind. Cullen stepped cautiously into the room, still unsure if he were truly welcome. He racked his brain for any misstep he could have made recently to put her in such a disposition, but came up empty.

He set the tray on her side table and stood uncertainly beside her. Evie still had not turned to truly acknowledge him and he lifted a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck. After a few silent moments, Cullen began to back away, taking the unspoken dismissal.

“I’ll just go-“

“What was your father like?” Her question was so abrupt that he barely had time to be confused by the inquiry itself.

“Erm – he was a farmer. Hardworking, strict, but fair. He wanted to make sure we could survive on our own and taught us the skills to do so.” It had been a while since Cullen thought of his father, and even longer since someone had asked about him. He’d told Evie a few stories from his childhood, but his father had died before he left for Templar training as a boy and his memories of him were fading year by year. He cleared his throat, wondering if that was the answer Evie was looking for.

“He loved you though?” This question seemed even odder than the first and he furrowed his brow, curious as to where her mind was. For the first time, Evie turned and looked at him expectantly and from the glow of the fire, he could see a faint ring of pink around her eyes.

“Yes,” He said carefully, wondering where her thoughts were, “yes, he loved us. He made certain we knew that.”

Evie turned back to the fire, nodding to herself. She leaned forward a bit reaching her hand out to the crackling flames. Small flames, barely the size of candle flickers, danced across her fingertips, leaping back and forth between her hand and the hearth. She did this often, saying the sensation tickled, but Cullen never quite grew used to the sight. He watched her for a few quiet, uncomfortable moments, deciding how to proceed. Luckily, she was the first to break the silence.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I did magic?”

Cullen’s brow furrowed, trying to make a connection. He knew her mother had known years before she’d been sent to the Circle. Her mood clearly involved her father, but Cullen couldn’t remember Evelyn ever bringing him up until now. He could guess that it was a sore subject and did not know how to navigate these uncertain waters.

“You set curtains on fire.” He said, recalling her tale. She’d been young, maybe seven years old, and her mother had been trying to get her into a rather ugly dress. In true childlike fashion, Evie had thrown a tantrum, setting the drapes ablaze. Her mother had covered it up as an accident, Cullen remembered, choosing not to tell Evie’s father and lose her only daughter to the Circle.

Evie chuckled, a quick smile quirking the corner of her mouth at the memory of her mother. She drew her hand back from the flames and when she turned to Cullen again, the smile was gone. She motioned to the armchair beside her that he usually occupied and he tentatively took his post beside her.

“That was when Mother found out,” She explained, and then tilted her head, a small crease forming between her brows, “and when _I_ found out, for that matter.

“No, I’m referring to when my father found out.” Her tone was so cold; Cullen was surprised that the merry flames in the hearth did not die out. He shifted uneasily, watching her face and trying to discern her thoughts.

“I was twelve,” She began, storm-colored eyes focused on the fireplace again, “Father was holding some ball, and as a _blossoming young woman_ , my attendance was required. A silk dress, a corset I couldn’t breathe in, and shoes I could barely walk in.” She shook her head at the memory, “A porcelain doll.” Evie whispered, eyes searching the flames.

She scoffed and her voice grew even quieter, “Daughters are only good for business deals. I don’t know why it took me so long to understand that.”

Evelyn straightened up slightly, gaze lost in the memory of this party. Cullen could almost picture her: an awkward young girl, not quite yet on the cusp of womanhood, being paraded about by her father. Had she had more freckles on her face then, or less? Did she stand straight, with her head held high as Evie did now, or did she cower in apprehension?

“He made me dance with every unmarried man in the room.” She continued, “Some younger than me, most older. They leered and they admired _how very grown up_ I was.” The feigned Free Marcher noble accent set Cullen’s teeth on edge, picturing a young, skittish Evelyn being ogled at by men twice and thrice her age. He was acutely aware of how crude men could be and feared Evie’s story would not have a happy ending.

“There was some Bann’s son from Hambleton, I think, who was twice my age. He insisted on dancing with me and Father was thrilled. He was an heir to a bannorn, ripe for an alliance. Easily the most potential for social-climbing. Father handed me off to him like I was a trophy hunt, ready to be mounted.” She scoffed bitterly at the innuendo and Cullen felt his face flush in indignation at a man he’d never met. His fingers curled into the armrests, picturing a simpering noble man he’d be happy to throttle.

Evelyn then got very quiet, flames reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“His hands were all over me. Right there, in the middle of the ballroom. It was late and everyone was completely sloshed…they didn’t even notice some _child_ being groped.” Tears began to make twin trails down her cheeks and Cullen sat frozen as he listened to her speak.

“I don’t remember for sure what he said to me. I’m sure I didn’t know half of the things he was even saying. Talking about how I’d be a good, obedient wife and all of the nasty things that go along with it. You don’t need to hear that part. But he pulled me close and I could _feel_ how…excited these things made him and I –”

Evelyn’s voice began to crack as she remembered the night. She took a deep, steadying breath, reaching a hand out to the flames again and feeling the warmth, grounding herself.

“I just remember losing it. Losing complete control and I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to stop myself. There in front of all those people who didn’t know what I was…

“I set his trousers on fire.”

Cullen blinked. Evie turned back to him from the fireplace, tears rolling down her face, with a grin stretching her mouth. He blinked again, unsure of what he had just heard.

“You what?”

“I set that perv’s trousers _on fire_ , Cullen.” She gave a strangled, but delighted laugh, swiping a hand across her face to dry the tears. In both his awe and confusion, Cullen caught her hand and held it between his own.

“Please tell me you caused severe burns.” She laughed again, lighter this time and Cullen offered a smile at the reaction. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“Enough to be called a wicked bitch.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned and held his arms for her. She clambered onto his lap, as she so often did in the peace of her chambers and tucked her head in his neck. Cullen wrapped his arms around her, tighter than usual, and they sat, breathing in sync for several moments.

“He sent me to the Circle the next day,” Evelyn finally said, “Didn’t even wait for the Templars to come collect me. Told me I’d brought ruin upon our family with my horrid stain of magic. Told me I’d embarrassed him and that our family’s reputation would never recover. _‘No daughter of mine will be a damned mage!’_ ”

“Hm,” Cullen said, absentmindedly running his fingers through her riot of sandy waves, “wonder how he feels about you being a damned Inquisitor?”

He felt her slight huff of laughter against his cheek, but also slow drip of her remaining tears. Cullen placed a kiss to her forehead, running a hand up and down her arm in a soothing rhythm. She sighed, burying her face further into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent of her commander.

“Funny you should ask.” She said slowly, and waved an absent hand to a lone letter, discarded on the stone floor before the hearth, “Apparently he is ‘proud of the expertise and leadership I am showing during these troubled times,’ and I am a – oh how did he put it?” She furrowed her brow in mock thought, “Oh yes, I am a ‘true example of Trevelyan piety and fortitude.’”

Evelyn snorted and he could imagine the sardonic roll of her eyes against his collar. He ground his teeth, knowing enough about noble politics to discern the bann’s meaning.

“He needs something from you.” A statement, not a question.

“They all do.” Was her tired reply.

Cullen screwed his eyes shut, taking in the conversation. She was right – people always needed something from her. The fact that this was her father, a man who had treated her like she did not exist for the majority of her life, asking for influence or money from the Inquisition. He was used to people trying to leverage their vague connections to Evelyn, but it never ceased to anger him.

“You haven’t seen him since he sent you away?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Good. I intend on keeping it that way.” She snorted at his staunch declaration and Cullen felt the petal-soft touch of a kiss against his neck. Evelyn raised her hand and made a lazy trilling gesture with her fingers. Instantly, the letter on the floor sparked at the corner and began to catch aflame, burning the bann’s honeyed compliments and requests into ash.

 _“‘Modest in temper, bold in deed_.’” Evie quoted her family’s motto in a droll tone. Cullen laughed, holding her tighter to him and pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“You must really work on that temper part, my love.” Evelyn laughed, a full, bright noise that warmed him to the core. She lifted her head and stared down at him, fingers weaving into the soft golden curls at the nape of his neck.

“I’m a work in progress.” She declared, shrugging, but he shook his head, lifting up to place a soft kiss on her mouth.

“No,” Cullen whispered against her lips, capturing them again. This time, a promise, “you are perfect.”


End file.
